An Invincible Summer
by TheMadMistress
Summary: Sonja. That's her name. Not Sophia, not Your Royal Highness. Just Sonja. And she would trade Arendelle for the world if she could. The wish that she harbors for all her life comes true in a manner she did not expect, but will take all the same. Adventure. Freedom. Magic is in her blood, they say, and it seems that the same can be said of trouble as well.
1. Prologue

_Once upon a time…. Well, that might not be the best way to begin this. It isn't a fairy tale. There is a princess involved, and plenty of magic, but none of it is made up. Every bit of it is true._

_I know._

_I'm the princess._

_Some people think this story began the day that I was kidnapped, which is sort of true. The real start to the story is about twenty-seven years before that. When the kingdom of Arendelle was plunged into an eternal winter._

_I grew up hearing about how my mother's sister, Elsa, had cursed the land, and how Mother helped her break it. Father loved to tell the tale again and again, and my brothers and I listened eagerly to it every time. Around campfires in the mountains or just before bed in the castle- it didn't matter. We loved nothing better than to hear the story that had brought our parents together._

_"And then that dastardly villain Hans raised his sword high above his head, and swung it down at your Aunt Elsa!" Father would try hard not to smile when the three of us gasped. He always failed. "And… CRACK! The sword shattered against ice as hard as stone. Your mother stood frozen between them, shielding Aunt Elsa from the blow that would have killed her."_

_My younger brother, Fredrik, would sniffle at that point. "Did Mum get better?"_

_Mother always laughed and would pull him into her lap to hold him tight. Even back then they looked alike. "Of course, darling. Could I snuggle you like this if I didn't?"_

_Fredrik, consoled for the time being, would nestle as close to her as he could manage. Father would wait until he was settled, and then continue the story._

_"And when your mother unfroze, Aunt Elsa knew how to lift the curse. Love."_

_"Love?" my older brother, Magnus, asked. His eyes, a lighter brown than mine, were lit up with what I later realized was hope._

_Father would smile and nod. "Love will always thaw a frozen heart."_

_Magnus would look down at the gloves he wore, the ones Aunt Elsa had advised him to wear, and smile._

_"And then you and Mum lived happily ever after," I would say, making Father chuckle._

_"Yes," he never failed to say. "We lived happily ever after with our three wonderful children."_

_None of us knew that sometimes happily ever afters don't last. That sometimes they are cut short. We thought that we had forever, and that nothing could take it away._

_Oh, the ignorance of youth._


	2. Chapter 1

The sun had not yet began to rise, and would not for several hours yet. Sonja had always been the one to awaken at a ridiculously early time. Not even the servants woke up when she did. She figured it was just a habit from her childhood that she had never outgrown.

The palace was silent when she opened her bedroom door. There was no lamp burning in the hall, but pale light spilled in through the windows that were left unshuttered. As quietly as she had opened her door, she closed it behind her.

She carried her boots in one hand and her pack of equipment in the other. Her socked feet slid a bit on the polished wood of the floor, but she never stumbled or fell. Whatever failing she had as a princess, she was at the very least graceful when she decided to be.

Sonja paused by one of the tall windows and peeked out at the sky. The writhing colors that streaked through the stars made her smile, made her heart race with excitement. The aurora borealis had always brought her a sense of joy that nothing could deter.

Without incident, she made her way down to the kitchens as she did every morning. Embers glowed in the wide stone hearth across the room from her, and she started at the movement of shadows. Sonja heard the scrape of metal on stone, and blinked away from the sudden light of the rekindled fire.

"You're running late."

Sonja looked to the speaker before she started towards her. Somehow she was surprised and yet not to see her aunt's lady-in-waiting standing there with a fire poker in her hand.

"I decided to sleep in a little," the princess replied. "What of you, Salama? Are you up early or late?"

Salama chuckled, the sound rich and low. She returned the poker to its hook and resumed her seat on a low stool close to it. Like Sonja, she was dressed to ward off the nighttime chill. Her clothes, however, were meant for sleeping.

"Late, I suppose," Salama said. The words were wrapped in a distinct accent, one that Sonja had never heard save for when Salama spoke. "Her Majesty does not rest well, so neither do I."

Sonja smiled. She had never known anyone more devoted and loyal to her aunt than her mother was, but Salama came very close.

"Magnus?" Sonja asked.

Salama nodded. "More specifically; the ball. You know she's never much gotten used to parties."

"I know. That's why Mum's been the Mistress of Ceremonies for… ever."

"This is a very important gathering."

"I know."

"So please try to be back here in time to get ready."

"Yes ma'am," Sonja replied. "I'll be back by noon. I promise."

The set of Salama's shoulders softened, and she smiled.

"Thank you, princess." She motioned to a little satchel on the table closest to Sonja. "I packed you a breakfast. You always forget to take food with you."

"Always in a hurry," Sonja said with a sheepish smile. Grabbing the satchel, she slipped it into her bigger pack of equipment, and took a seat on a nearby stool so she could put her boots on.

Salama nodded again, this time in understanding instead of acknowledgement. She knew as well as anyone why it was that the princess snuck out every morning to go into the mountains. She had known it since she first arrived in Arendelle, but she never commented on it.

No pity. No scolding. Nothing but a silent acceptance and promise to support Sonja as she did Elsa.

"There are carrots for Stig by the door," Salama said, pointing. The vegetables were just barely visible in the dim light of the little fire.

Sonja finished lacing her boots and stood up. She smiled towards the other woman, who smiled in return.

"Thank you, Salama."

"Anything, princess. Just remember…"

"Home by noon. I have a final fitting and the hairdresser is will be here."

The smile on Salama's face grew wider. She was obviously delighted that Sonja had remembered such details on her own. Sonja's own smile brightened as well.

The princess grabbed her bag and slung it over one shoulder before starting towards the door. She paused to grab the carrots.

"Try to get some rest," Sonja said.

Salama rolled her eyes and waved her, making Sonja chuckle as she headed out into the chill of the night.

The stables were a welcome change from the still air of the palace. Fresh straw had been laid down the night before, and the sweet scent of it masked the stouter smells of manure. Sonja jogged to the stall at the end where a wooden plaque bore the hand-carved name "Stig."

"Stig," she greeted, opening the door of the stall. "Rise and shine, buddy. Time to go."

The reindeer snorted as he rose to his feet and shook out his coat. Unlike Sonja, he was not keen on mornings.

"C'mon, don't be grumpy. It's a lovely morning."

Stig stared at her.

"Well… I suppose you could go back to sleep. But then I'm going to have to eat these carrots all… by… myself…"

That seemed to get his attention. He let out an objecting bleat and nudged her arm with his nose. Sonja laughed as she reached to stroke the underside of his chin.

"Thought you might feel that way."

She led him out of the stall, and pulled one of the carrots out the bunch. Stig wasted no time in taking it out of her hand, and happily munched away as she set to saddling him. The whole process took no more than a quarter hour. As soon as she had everything situated as she wanted it to be, she led Stig out of the stable.

There were a few people in the village that were awake when she passed through. A guard strolled through the streets, making sure that all was well and peaceful. Lamps were lit in the bakery and she could smell the fresh-lit fires as she passed by. She could hear the sounds of the tavern, dwindling noises of a night well spent. A pair of sailors staggered out of the door, crooning a song she did not recognize, and stopping only to argue as to what the next verse was.

Nudging Stig, she guided him towards the path she had taken every day for as long as what she could recall. Her father used to take her in the sled with him, and then when she inherited Stig she had ridden him.

Those early trips had often included Magnus, back before his days were filled with official duties. He loved to seize every opportunity to practice what Aunt Elsa had taught him. The mountains were still riddled with his creations. Frederik had never cared for the ice or cold, and refused to join them. Especially since it meant that he would have to wake so early.

Sonja smiled at the memories, and not for the first time she felt the bittersweet pange of absence in her heart. For ten years she had been making the trip alone, but the journey up the mountain never grew easier. It never felt right.

The dark of the night had lightened to the gunmetal gray of predawn when she finally drew Stig to a stop and dismounted. Another carrot was fished from her bag and given to him before she finished climbing the rise of the cliff.

The frozen lake stretched for miles and gave the fleeting impression of infinite ice. The snow was not as dense in this place, since she cleared out a spot to sit every morning. When she had made a decent seat, she settled down with her bag in her lap, and looked to the pass far below where she knew they would come.

She did not know how long she waited, but she knew it could not have been more than ten minutes. The sun had not yet began to rise when she heard the echo of jingling bells and men's voices. The song sent a thrill of delight rushing through her, and she craned her neck to better see the sleds as they slid out onto the thick ice.

For several long moments the heavy clink of the horses' spiked shoes drowned out the sound of the ice harvesters' singing. When they came to a stop and the men disembarked, she smiled to hear their song again. These songs she knew, and had known all her life. Her father had sang them to her and her siblings whenever he put them to bed, or whenever they all loaded into their sleigh to spend a few days up in the wilderness he called home.

Maybe that was why she felt that the cliff was holier than any church or Nordic ruins she had ever been to. In that place her father was everywhere. He was in the voices of the ice harvesters, in the twisting colors of the aurora borealis, and even in the chill of the snow around her. Ten years dead, but he still lived on in those mountains that he loved so well.

Sonja listened to the men, to the sounds of their pick-axes and saws hit ice, as she ate the breakfast that Salama had packed for her. Dawn broke over the far ridge of snow-capped peaks, bathing the earth and sky with glowing streaks of pink and orange. She could have spent countless hours there, but she had never broken a promise before and had no intentions of starting then.

Snow clung to her pants and boots even after she had tried to brush it away. A few clumps fell off as she walked down to the copse of trees where she had left Stig. He was scraping his antlers against the trunk of a tree when she approached. The velvet of the antlers was just beginning to slough off the bone, and the antlers themselves would fall off before long.

She gave him another carrot before climbing into the saddle and urging him back towards the castle. The descent was easier; physically and mentally. Coming down from the mountain had never quite broken her heart like climbing it did.


	3. Chapter 2

The sun had fully risen by the time she dropped Stig off at the stables. The lingering chill of spring was barely noticeable, and Sonja sweated under the thick layers she wore. She stripped off her jacket long before she entered the castle, and held it draped over one arm while her satchel hung off the other.

A servant met her at the door to collect the items and pass along a message from her mother reminding the princess to take a bath before her fitting. She thanked the man before heading up to her room where a porcelain tub was being filled with alternating pots of hot and cold water by two maids.

A young woman close to Sonja's age was arranging a set of towels on the stand near the tub, and the sight of her made Sonja grin. She wore a vibrant blue skirt trimmed with a pattern composed of reds, yellows, blues, and greens that echoed with the influences of her people who lived far to the north. Her blouse was of the Arendelle style, with a red bodice over the top. She wore her hair in a thick bun that rested at the nape of her neck.

"Frieda," Sonja greeted. "I haven't seen you in a few days. I was beginning to worry about you."

Frieda straightened and looked over to her with a kind smile. Not for the first time Sonja was struck with the thought that the servant girl should have been a princess. She looked and acted the part far more than Sonja had ever thought to.

"I have been kept busy in other parts of the palace," she replied, her voice carrying a hint of her homeland. "Tonight is an important night."

"That's what everyone keeps telling me."

Frieda chuckled. "You could sound less enthused, but it would be difficult."

"It's Magnus' birthday," Sonja said. She moved to stand by the tub and trail her fingers through the water. It was a little warmer than she preferred, but she said nothing about it. "He's the one they're trying to marry off. I'm not all that important."

"He will need as many allies as possible though," Frieda replied. Sonja could not decide if there was a touch of sadness in her tone or not. "So hurry and bathe. I've laid out a dressing gown for you, and I'll be waiting just outside in the hall to take you to your mother's room."

Frieda was gone a moment later, followed by the two other servants who had been filling the tub. In their absence, Sonja bathed and changed into the dressing gown that had been laid out for her.

She did not bother trying to fix her hair, knowing that whatever she did to it would be undone when the hairdresser set to work. All she did was loosely coil it onto the back of her head and pin it into place with a long, plain comb.

As Frieda had promised, she was waiting in the hall for Sonja. She stood by one of the tall windows, staring out towards the courtyard below. Sonja approached her with the same soundless steps she used to sneak out of the palace every morning, and peeked over her shoulder.

Far below in the cobbled courtyard, Sonja saw her eldest brother standing with their aunt. They stood between the two perpetually frozen fountains, watching as a fleet of servants strung up lanterns and decorations that would guide the guests from the gates to the front doors of the castle.

Both held themselves with a regal posture that the Queen had taught the Crown Prince. She kept her hands folded before her while he kept his hands behind his back in a gesture that made him seem a little broader in the shoulders than he was. Not that he was a small man by any means.

Unlike her younger brother, Magnus had been called burly more than once in his life. His build was that of their father's, but that was where the similarities ended. His face was that of his namesake; the late King Magnus IV of Arendelle.

"He is handsome, isn't he?" Sonja said.

Frieda jumped and pulled back from the window. Her cheeks flushed as she looked to the princess. Sonja only looked to her with a knowing smile.

"All the royal family is very beautiful," Frieda said.

"Maybe, but some more so than others."

Frieda's blush deepened. "Her Highness is waiting. Come along."

The pair walked in silence down the hall and up the stairs. The top rooms of the castle were home to only two suites; one for the king and one for the queen. Sonja's grandparents had broken the tradition in their time, however, and now their children had split the suites between them. The Queen lodged in one room while Sonja's parents had moved into the other.

Sonja heard voices before she had made it to the door. One was distinctly her mother's, and another belonged to her old nursemaid, Gerda. Her younger brother began speaking just as Sonja reached the door. It was ajar just enough to let the conversation to be clearly heard.

"What do think, Mother?"

"You know I think you look handsome in anything you wear."

"Mother, that's not helpful."

"Go with the hunter green."

"Hope I'm not interrupting," Sonja said, pushing the door open.

Her mother was seated on the edge of her bed, half buried under a pile of frock coats of varying colors. Her brother stood before the full length mirror by the closet, fastening a hunter green coat.

"Come in, darling," her mother said, smiling as she waved her daughter into the room.

Princess Anna of Arendelle, Dowager Grand Duchess of Flink-Merak, had been a great beauty in her youth and nothing about that had changed in her middle age. Her ginger hair was streaked with silver, and the corners of her eyes and mouth crinkled deeply when she smiled. Aside from those minute differences she looked the same as she did in her wedding portrait, which hung in the grand salon next to an old rendering of Joan of Arc. Sonja had been told that she favored her mother, but she could not see it. She did not think she looked like either of her parents.

Anna pushed her youngest child's frock coats off her lap and onto the bed so she could rise to her feet. She continued to smile as she held her arms open in the invitation of a hug.

Sonja smiled as well as she eagerly took up the offer, and embraced her mother. Despite her leanness, Anna was stout and every hug she bestowed nearly took the breath out of whomever it was that she embraced.

When she finally released her daughter, Anna held her at arm's length to look her over.

"You get beautifuller every time I see you," she said, exuberantly. She made a face before correcting herself. "Well, not fuller. More beautiful. I mean-"

"I know, Mum," Sonja interrupted, laughing. "Thank you."

"I don't know, Sophia," Fredrik said, looking at them in the reflection of the mirror. "Your waist looks a little thick."

"I'll worry when it's as thick as your head," Sonja replied, her voice not losing a bit of its cheerfulness.

Anna made a face at her son. "Fredrik, be nice to your sister. Everything about her is gorgeous."

Fredrik chuckled as he turned towards them, straightening his cuffs as he did. He looked younger than his eighteen years, but did not seem to mind. He was sleek and lean, and had fine features that were almost feminine. When they were all younger, Sonja had once put him in one of her dresses for the sake of amusement.

Fredrika had been a very pretty girl.

"Tell me what you think," he said.

"Dark green looks good on you," Sonja said with a little shrug.

Appeased by the praise, Fredrik turned to examine himself in the mirror once more. "Hunter green, sister dear. It's hunter green."

"Whatever you say, Freddy."

"Now that that's settled, Fredrik," Anna said, "go see if Elsa needs your help with anything. Gerda needs to put the finishing touches to Sonja's dress."

He departed at their mother's urging, pausing only to kiss Anna's cheek. Frieda closed the door behind him and then crossed the room to help the elderly woman in the closet bring out the gown they had been working on. Anna fairly bounced with excitement as they set the mannequin down before the mirror that Fredrik had been preening in.

"Do you like it?" Anna asked, biting her lower lip and folding her arms as she waited to see her daughter's reaction.

Sonja stared at the dress, unsure of what she thought to be exact. Though she was a princess of the blood, never in her life had she owned anything as exquisite as what stood before her.

The fabric was a deep, rich blue that was not quite as bright as Frieda's skirt was. The neckline lay even with the sleeves that could barely be called such since they fell off the shoulders and would not cover her arms. The skirt was wide and full with very sheer overlay that bore swirling patterns that glimmered in the light and crept up onto the bodice. The longer Sonja looked at the gown, the more those patterns began to look like snowflakes.

Astonishment gradually ebbed into suspicion as she looked over to her mother.

"Mum…"

"What?"

"Why's it so fancy?"

"No reason. Now go try it on."

Anna urged Sonja towards the gown and the servants who waited to help her into it. Gerda was a little rough in her lacing of the corset, but Frieda came behind her to loosen it when she turned her attention towards the gown. Sonja was grateful for her more than ever.

"There's going to be a lot of princes tonight," Frieda whispered to the princess.

Correction, _now _Sonja was more grateful for her than ever.

She had known that there was something amiss, and she should have guessed that it was more than just Magnus' birthday that had her mother wanting her to look like the princess she was. The thought had never occurred to her that the princesses who would be arriving that evening to meet Magnus would bring male relatives with them for a similar purpose: To make a match.

No one said anything else until Sonja was laced into her dress and turned to face her mother. Anna covered her mouth, tears in her eyes as she took in the sight of her daughter.

"Is it that bad?" Sonja asked, only half-joking.

Anna shook her head, dropping her hands to clasp them at her chest. "Oh, Sonja…" She paused to gather something, be it her words or nerves. When she found it, she continued. Tears streaked over her cheeks. "I wish your father could see you."

Strength. She'd had to pause to gather her strength.

Sonja stepped forward and wrapped her arms about Anna's shoulders to pull her into gentle embrace. Anna wrapped her arms around the younger woman in turn, and pressed her cheek to hers.

The court had officially mourned the death of Sonja's father for six months, but her mother had never stopped. She had coped with his absence after a few years, but they did not see much of her for the first one. Their aunt had tended to them while Anna stayed in her room and grieved.

Elsa had taken care of all of them.

She had trained Magnus, taken Sonja up the mountain, and tucked Fredrik in. Whenever a servant came to her and whispered that Anna had asked for her, the Queen would drop everything and go to her.

Sonja could remember hearing her mother sobs and her aunt's soothing words through Anna's bedroom door until there finally came a day when the door swung open and there stood Anna. She was still in her black mourning gown, but she had a look of pure determination and cheer. That afternoon Anna took her children away from their tutors and spent the afternoon in the garden with them simply playing games and telling stories.

Anna never locked herself away from them again after that, but there were still times when she would excuse herself for a little while to sit by herself, and there were still times when she would be moved to tears. Each year, however, her clothes became a shade lighter and they all took that as a good sign.

Sonja did not pull back from her mother. She waited until Anna let go of her first.

"I'm sorry," Anna said, wiping her cheeks. "I just feel like you grew up overnight."

"I can assure you that isn't true," Sonja replied. "I've been working on it for the last score and year."

Anna laughed at the response, and even Frieda and Gerda chuckled. The quip seemed to give Anna the boost she needed and she returned to her earlier chipper manner. She turned Sonja towards the mirror and pulled the comb out of her daughter's loose bun to let the damp locks fall free. The entire time she played with Sonja's hair, she chatted merrily about other parties that had been held at the palace over the years.

For the moment all was well. Sonja only hoped that it would hold true for the rest of the night.


	4. Chapter 3

The hairdresser was nothing less than a miracle worker as far as Sonja was concerned. The long, snarled locks were smoothed and curled, and then twisted up and away from her face. He pinned the thick ringlets with jeweled combs on the crown of her head, but did not try to tame them beyond that. He let the blonde curls cascade down her back and over her bare shoulders. She had not realized just how long her hair had gotten.

When he finally turned her towards the mirror at her mother's disused vanity, Sonja nearly gasped. She did not recognize herself without her thick winter clothes or wind-tangled hair. The sight pleased her in a way, but in that same moment it left her disoriented.

That wasn't Sonja. Must be that Sophia creature people talked about.

She studied the reflection in silence. The hair color and eyes were her father's, and the faint freckles reminded her of those that still speckled her mother's face. Even now, however, she could not see more of them in herself. There were not even traces of her aunt or grandparents there, and somehow the fact was more glaringly obvious now that she had been scrubbed and polished.

"Frieda," Anna said, somewhere behind her daughter. "Do you know if that photographer has arrived yet?"

"I can find out, You Highness."

"Please do!"

Frieda bowed and left the room to do as she was bade, leaving Sonja with only her mother and the hairdresser. Gerda had taken a seat in the corner and was snoring contentedly. No one bothered her since they all figured that the eighty-year-old woman had long since earned the right to sleep wherever she wished.

"Have you heard of photography, Sonja?" Anna asked, looking at her daughter's reflection as she spoke. "It's the most fascinating thing!"

Sonja smiled and nodded. "I've heard of it from Fredrik. He loves to go on about all things fashionable."

"He was the one to convince Elsa to send for one," her mother replied. "And I'm thankful of it. We haven't had a proper family picture in years. And this time we won't have to sit for hours for painter. Do you know how dreadful it is sitting for a portrait with a teething baby on your lap?"

Anna threw up her hands and made a disgruntled noise, making Sonja laugh.

"Your Highness," the hairdresser said, interrupting the two woman as politely as he could. "Do you wish for me to set your hair as well?"

"Oh, no," Anna replied. "No, that won't be necessary."

Sonja turned in her chair to look up to her mother. "Why not?"

"I couldn't. It'd be wasted effort. There's no reason for me to dress up."

Anna offered every excuse she could think of, all the while fidgeting with her fingers. Her daughter listened to her patiently, and when she finally ended her list, Sonja spoke up.

"But Mother, it is Magnus' birthday. A royal occasion." Anna still seemed uncertain. "And this will be your first photograph."

When her mother's eyes widened with realization, Sonja knew she had won. Vanity had not been on her side, as some would suppose, but rather a sense of adventure that Anna had possessed all her life.

"You children are getting too clever," Anna said, her tone both impressed and faintly exasperated. She motioned for Sonja to get up, which she did without question, and then sat down on the vacated chair.

While the hairdresser began to unpin and unwind Anna's braid, Sonja crept over to the closet. Her gown had been returned to its stand to wait for the time she would actually wear it, and so she had resumed wearing her dressing gown. As much as she liked her new gown, it was far easier to move about without it.

The light of day that spilled in through the open windows faintly illuminated the inside of the closet and the rows of dresses that were housed there. Most of what Sonja found was varying shades of grey, peppered with a few black gowns. All of the garments were pretty in their styles, but not what she sought. Each one was discarded until she reached the very end of the row.

The back of the closet was too dark for her to tell, but she was certain that this one was neither black nor grey. She grabbed the dress and the hanger that held it up, and hauled it back into the brightly lit bedroom. A hopeful smile tugged at her lips as she looked from the gown to her mother's reflection.

"Mum, why don't you wear this?" she asked. "I've never seen you in it."

Anna looked to the mirror to see what it was that Sonja held, and her brow furrowed at the sight of the long-forgotten gown.

"Sonja, I don't know…"

"Why not? It's lovely and you will look wonderful in it."

Anna bit her lower lip in contemplation, but did not concede. "I'm sure, but-"

"Please?" Sonja asked, stressing the word more than she usually would. "Just for tonight. Then you can go back to grey tomorrow."

Silence enveloped the room. The hairdresser looked from one princess to the other, unsure of what might happen next. Gerda had even roused from her nap to see what was going on. Sonja bit her lower lip to try to keep from smiling in case she lost this battle.

"Just tonight," Anna said at last. Everyone breathed a happy sigh, and Sonja giggled happily as she laid the gown out on the foot of her mother's bed.

The skirt was wide and full, just as the blue gown's was, but the neckline of this dress was not nearly so low. The style was older but recent enough to not be easily dated, which would please Fredrik. What would please all of them, however, was the fact that it was a deep, rich green; Darker than Fredrik's coat but still distinctly green, and trimmed at the hem and neck with crocuses embroidered in gold.

The hairdresser set to work on Anna's hair, chatting amicably all the while he did. No more than a quarter hour had passed before Gerda resumed napping, and Sonja seized the chance to slip quietly from the room. She had not made it to the staircase when her escape was cut short by her elder brother.

"You look a little underdressed for a ball," Magnus said, his lips quirking with amusement. He was already halfway up the staircase.

Sonja smiled and folded her arms, resigning herself to the fact that she was not going to be able to leave the third floor in her own time.

"Didn't you hear? I'm the entertainment."

Magnus feigned a grimace and shook his head as he stepped onto the landing where she waited. "Thank you, Sonja, but we're not Ptolemies."

They both laughed, though the sounds were drastically different. Magnus' laughter, like his voice, was deep and soft, while Sonja's was light and loud. He had always been a quick thinker, and his wit had made the halls echo with peals of joy since he had learned to speak.

"Is Mum decent?" he asked when their amusement settled. "I wanted to speak to her about tonight."

"What about?"

"I'm not sure I'm ready to choose a wife," he admitted. His brows pulled towards one another, a clear indication of his distress. While Magnus had always been able to keep a stoic façade before a crowd of strangers, he had never had much luck in concealing his feelings from his family. "After all, Her Majesty is still quite young and there isn't really a need for me to be wed just yet."

Sonja smiled at her brother as she had at Frieda only a few hours before, and shifted to lean against the railing of the landing. He was making excuses.

"Forgive me, Magnus," she said, choosing her words and tone with care. "But I thought you wanted a big family. Better to start on those sooner."

Magnus' ears turned redder than the carpet they stood on. "Well, yes, but-"

Try as he might, he could not choose the words he wished to use. When Sonja chuckled, his cheeks began to turn pink as well.

"Freddy's right," he finally said. "You're not a lady."

"Of course not. I'm a sister."

"Well, what of you? Aren't you supposed to be lovesick and pining over some prince at your age?"

"Not a chance," she replied with a dismissive wave. "I intend to become a rugged spinster with a manor full of cats."

"You're allergic to cats."

"Fine then. A manor full of reindeer."

Magnus laughed at that, shaking his head again. Reaching out, he rested his hands on her shoulders and leaned in to press a kiss to the top of her head.

"Little sister, you are flawless. Never change."

Sonja wrinkled her nose at him in a good-natured gesture as he pulled back from her. "Yes, Your Highness. Now go on and stall your matrimonial fate. I have an errand to run."

"Just don't muss your hair," he said, moving to let her start down the stairs. "The last time you made Cyrille cry, we all suffered for it."

She turned towards him and made a face. "I was six, Magnus. Give me a little credit."

His chuckling could be heard until he had disappeared from sight, behind the door of their mother's room.

Unimpeded now, Sonja hurried down the stairs and down the hall towards her room. The tub had long since been emptied and removed to storage, leaving her room in its original state.

Maps, news articles, and even handwritten tales were pinned to the walls, with places marked and notations made. The bookcases by the wide window were crammed full with tales of mystery, mythology, adventure, and histories. An atlas lay open on the window seat, and ribbons jutted out from various marked pages.

Her bed was neatly made and her pack of gear sat where it always did on the trunk at the footboard. She moved the pack to the floor and knelt to open the old wooden chest. Inside there was nothing of value to anyone but her.

A ragged doll with a wooden head and painted face, a length of cord, a hollowed out egg kept in a smaller box, a bundle of letters from when her parents visited Corona, and a number of other treasures she had kept over the course of her life. The most important of all was tucked in the very back, in a box carved with childish, geometric designs. Smiling, she grabbed the box and closed the chest so she could sit on the lid.

Opening the little, flat box felt like it required a ceremony, but she had none to use so she simply opened it. Her fingers brushed over the patterns that dotted the burgundy fabric, tracing them as she had a thousand times before. She had committed the patterns to memory years before.

As old as what the sash was, it was still heavy and sturdy. It had been made to last, though it had always frayed at the ends for some reason long before she was born. Despite that fact, she lifted the fabric with all the care that others showed to Venetian glass.

The sash had always served as a talisman to her, and was one of the few things she had that not only belonged to her father, but he had gifted to her in her childhood. The memory made her smile even while tears pricked at the backs of her eyes.

She had been so worried about scaling the cliff face. Though it had only been ten feet tall, seven-year-old Sonja had thought it was quite a long way to fall.

"_Have courage. You'll do fine," Kristoff said. He smiled to try and reassure her, but her knees still trembled at the prospect of broken bones. _

"_But Pappa, I'm not nearly as brave as you are," she replied. _

_The smile never wavered as he knelt before her and rested his hands on her shoulders. "You are brave, Sonja." He was the only one who called her that in those days. "Don't ever tell yourself that you're not."_

_Kristoff pressed a kiss to her forehead before rising to his feet again. When his daughter remained dubious, he untied the sash he always wore and bent to tie it around her waist._

"_There," he said, straightening again when he was finished. "Now that is a special sash given to me by Farmor Bulda."_

"_Why is it special?"_

"_It brings out a person's courage. Go ahead and look at the cliff." She did as she was told and turned to look up to the cliff again. "What do you think? Is it still too tall?"_

_Sonja shook her head. Somehow in the last five minutes the jutting rock and ice had become less frightening. She smiled._

"_I can do this."_

In all the other daunting times of her life Sonja had worn the sash in some manner. Tonight would be no exception.

Closing the box, she tucked it under her arm and left her room. By now she was certain her mother would be missing her. More than that, she was curious as to how Magnus' conversation had gone.


End file.
